The Emotional Musings of a Complicated Connection
by Storm Midnight
Summary: "Why is it when I am haunted by painful memories, I find myself in your arms? Why is it when you try to drink away your sorrows, you always find a way to my doorstep?" France reflects on his complex relationship with England. FrUK, Fluffy-ish at the end


**Okay I know I should be writing Of Roses and Thorns right now, but I got inspiration out of left field and simply HAD to write this! FrUK isn't one of my favorite pairings, but if motivated I will write just about anything, and also I really wanted to try out a new writing style. I would like to dedicate this story to aphfangirl7476, because she is such a wonderful person, fellow author, editor, and inspirational friend. Happy Belated Birthday!**

**I'm kinda iffy on the current rating, so if anyone feels that it needs to be bumped up to M, please PM me about it and I will do so ASAP.**

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**The Emotional Musings of a Complicated Connection**

These meetings have always been a great cacophony of sound, with our fellow nations screaming at each other in high falsettos, trying to calm others in soothing altos, or simply yanking us off of each other with deep baritone warnings. Voices entwine both melodiously and erroneously, creating beautiful, musical chaos. Perhaps it is glorious enough for one of Italy's painters to capture a grand moment on canvas, or for one of Austria's composers to sound some symphony from it. Perhaps it would even inspire one of your poets; I hear they always need a muse.

And throughout all this noise a single sound stands out to me. It is tenor, heightening with rage and embarrassment while falling with calm and diplomacy. Everything else in my ears turns to silence as I stare at the source of that wondrous sound. Your lips are mesmerizing, forming each syllable with the utmost care. You're speaking with Japan, and give a small smile. Has anyone ever told you how your eyes sparkle when happiness graces your mood? They are akin to a sea of emeralds, or to an enchanted forest if I may be so bold. Yet somehow I doubt such things have been said, for you always have that silly scowl plastered on your face. I wonder... When was the last time you laughed? And no, if it was at my expense it didn't count.

Certainly you must have felt my eyes on you, for you turn to meet my gaze. That sound known as your voice becomes sharp and caustic, biting hard into my heart. Naturally I retort, and so our war begins, just like it is always meant to be.

Our battles really are inevitable, aren't they? I look at you, you react. Even if I hadn't I bet you would have thought of some clever little phrase in that posh accent of yours that would have riled me up. And even if _that_ did not work I assure you that I would have found some way to insult you before our lunch break. I wonder what would happen if one day I were to simply ignore you... How would you react then? Would you dotingly vie for my attention or would you throw a fit and scream until I acknowledge you? Sadly I believe the latter would take place, you do always tend to act so childishly... But then again, you would possibly grow upset and sullen, because certainly you would be at a loss without someone to quarrel with. And yet, if you are to fight then I must be the one to fight with you. I am the only one you can yell at without fearing you'll be hated, and the only one who can shout back without you being on the brink of tears. No, _mon ami,_ I am not saying that you cry often, it is just that the only other man you dare fight with leaves you in such a sorry state every time you do so.

Your voice becomes dark and venomous, the remarks scathe to the point where you're practically spitting fire. I'm relentless as always, making sure to note your horrendously bushy eyebrows in my response. I scoff and smirk so that you do not see the lie in my eyes. Deep down you know I have no ill will against them, it is just the fact that they upset you so. They knit together, hurt by the statement. It was a low blow, I'll admit, but do not plague yourself with such self conscious worries... They are quite charming, and you would not be _mon Angleterre_ without them.

Unfortunately you seem to be much more belligerent than usual today. You fire back something about my promiscuity and a line is crossed. I eye you dangerously, a comeback so tantalizing balances on my tongue that it just begs to be shouted to all of the room's occupants. You know what I can say and for the briefest of moments I see your eyes light up in fear... And is that regret I see? Wonderful, _mon cher_, simply wonderful...

I resign myself to silence, but it is you who slumps in defeat. You know that I could verbally leave you in tatters if pushed too far. I could bring you to your knees and leave you a sobbing mess—not that I haven't already in several manners. Certain tidbits of information, so small but so highly destructive... I could ruin you if I wanted.

Sad part is, you could do the same to me, and you don't even realize it.

You declaim your hatred for me, and I graciously say that I return such a feeling, but we both know that is merely a single strand in the intricate web of mistruth and misfortune so tightly wrapped around us. You send a dark glare my way, and others perceive your every act as scorn, just as they interpret the returning roll of my eyes and corresponding actions as harsh mischief and jest. To them we are rivals, the bitterest of foes.

Tell me, if we supposed to be such bitter enemies... Why is it when I am haunted by painful memories, I find myself in your arms? Why is it when you try to drink away your sorrows, you always find a way to my doorstep? There were nights when you would come to me, whimpering and needy, and I would comfort you. Do you know how far you have fallen? Your shuddering breaths... Continuous wanton cries for more... _Sobbing_ my name as you were indulged and completed...

Will you ever live that down?

Of course... To expose one of us would be to expose the both of us; for there were also nights I would crawl to you, bemoaning my own lonesome situation. You believe this information is such a powerful weapon when all I have is an empty threat.

The truth is a dangerous thing.

It would destroy the both of us.

When did this poisonous cycle begin? Was it when I lost Jeanne, and nearly went mad from grief? You reached out when all others had rejected me for consorting with a mortal... It was the first time your hands found mine without malice, so gentle and soothing... Or was it after the Revolution of your precious _Amérique_, when you swore to kill me and only ended up in a puddle of tears? I had only helped him in revenge for you seizing Canada as your own, and I assure you that I will never forgive you for taking him just as you will never forgive me for assisting his brother. Still, I comforted you in your hour of need. From that point we both had forever lost someone we deeply loved. We had seen each other at our weakest, shared in that pain, _hated_ this cruel world together.

And so through the passing years we continued to fall back on each other? Is that how our 'relationship' came to be? I crave to hear your take on it, but to speak of it aloud would risk exposure as all walls have such traitorous ears. So instead we consort in shadows, hidden away from all, but just because it is dark does not change the fact that I am the one you're with. You should not be so ashamed, neither of us have much of a reputation left anyways. You know very well that the others mock us, making examples of you and I. You are why one shouldn't get too attached to a colony; I am why we minimize our contact with humans. I am the spectacle, you are the show. They do not understand as we do, they do not understand the depth of our pain.

How hard is it for you to keep up your façade? There are moments when I see your composure slip, when your loss is too much to bear. It must kill you, seeing him at every meeting... Is that why you fight me? Am I merely a distraction? Is it all just so you don't have to look him in the face? In all honesty, I envy you. I would give anything to see Jeanne again, no matter how much it hurt. Just to see her happy, just to see her safe, just to see her _alive..._ That would be enough.

You let out a weary sigh and prop your head up on a delicate hand. You seem so tired today... Did that damn American speak to you before I arrived? While I might be envious of your proximity to your desire I cannot control my hatred towards the man who has so thoroughly destroyed you. Your eyes flick to him. Once, twice every few minutes. He finally says something idiotic and you reprimand him. It quickly escalates into another argument and I can see such strain beneath your skin. _Why do you do this to yourself?_ You're like glass. Slowly pressure is being applied and it's only a matter of time before you crack and shatter into a thousand pieces.

I can't say I want to see that happen.

I stand up and shout a few choice words at the burger loving moron. After a few sound allusions to his virginity he agrees to be quiet and leaves you alone. You shoot me another look, seemingly hostile but laced with shock and gratitude. I forced myself to smirk as not to arouse suspicion. You turn away and I crack a grin, you always claimed to be the actor but you could not mask the relief that spread across your features at my intervention.

Again, why do you do this to yourself?

Eventually we break for lunch and I am coerced into joining beautiful Seychelles and elegant Monaco for a quick journey to a nearby café. Out of the corner of my eye I see you stop your advance and an air of dejection hangs around you. What, did you _honestly_ think we'd be able to eat together after I championed you? We can't afford to act too comfortable in public, isn't that what _you_ said? Please... Don't be so upset _mon petit_, I am sorry if I have hurt you again. In that one glance I see those eyebrows join together and the tip of your upper lip quivers ever so slightly, a sign that you are fighting tears. I am surprised that I notice such things, but somehow it is always with you.

Only with you.

As you see me quickly usher the two young ladies to my car, are you jealous? Do you wish it was me holding the door for you, muttering meaningless endearments while we chat about innocent nonsense? I know how it would be if it were you instead of them... We'd walk in together, whether or not bickering would depend on the day... And probably the weather: we would make it in sunshine, maybe in clouds, but never in rain for it reminds you too much of _him._ You would ask if the café sold tea, and how you would _scowl_ if it didn't. Ah, but do you really think I would bring you to such a café? Do you really think me so inconsiderate? You would select a small table outside or in—again a decision ruled by the weather—and we would sit down. It's cold out today, so you would gratefully wrap your hands around the small cup and raise it to those lips of yours. Hopefully the tea would be to your liking, and you would let out a contented sigh and smile—how I wish you would _smile_ at me more...

The seemingly friendly_—shallow—_conversations I have with these women cannot hold a candle to the interactions I would have with you. Chances are you would dislike me paying for you, and insist that you return what you owe. I would decline, but suggest several more creative ways in which you could pay me back. Your cheeks would flame up and you would chastise me for such crudeness.

It wouldn't _kill_ you to humor me once in a while.

All too soon I am rushing back to the meeting room. I see you chatting with Japan again; I hope you had a good time with him. But your shoulders are tense and I quickly see why. That American... That foolish, _foolish_ boy, he hovers at the shoulder of your friend rudely butting in at inopportune moments and frustrating you to no end. I walk past you, my elbow brushing lightly against your upper arm as I push my way through other nations and move towards my seat, why you all congregate at the door I'll never know...

I glance back to see if you got my signal, and frown when your back is still turned. _Chéri,_ am I not even worth a passing glare? You knew it was me, I saw how you stiffened in that one moment. Are you still so thoroughly entranced by that bastard of a man...?

Pesky feelings... Ruling one's heart and mind. Your carelessness wounds me. The meeting is called back to order and the seats are gradually filled. You are forced to take one next to me, and I cannot help but smile radiantly. Everyone else will think I am mocking you but I am honestly glad you're here. You do not look at me. Your eyes are trained on the current speaker and you are stoic. Misery boils deep within you, but I cannot find a reason for it. My eyes dart to a certain American and I see him in an intimate side conversation with... _Mon dieu..._

I am so sorry.

Japan stares at the other man in such an intense way that it could only be described as a look between lovers.

I hadn't the faintest idea.

I make sure no one is watching us before my hand slides under the table to rest on your knee. Our chairs are close, so it doesn't require too much effort. One of your hands disappears, before resting on top of mine. You let out a shuddering breath as America chuckles lightly and your hand tightens. Other than that you show no emotion.

The end of the meeting is swiftly approaching, and the floor is open for any announcements that need to be stated. America stands up. My hand twists so that I may give yours a sympathetic squeeze.

Please leave while you still have the chance.

I don't want to see you break.

That fool proudly declaims that he is engaged, sparking surprise from everyone. Japan shyly stands up next to him. Turns out they are eloping, and are using their human names in the matter.

A country's title is used in a political union; a human name is for a love match. Between shocked murmurs of congratulations I see everyone turn to look at you at least once. I look at you and I am perhaps the most stunned person in the room.

You are smiling.

I see the tears pool at the corner of your eyes, but you're still _smiling._

Why is that I have to bend over backwards to get you to stop scowling, but he breaks your heart and you cannot help but smile? Of you I may be knowledgeable, but I swear I will never understand your antics. A giddy mask adorns my face while I seethe with rage at the scene and your reaction. I excuse myself, saying that my boss has contacted me with urgent matters that need to be discussed. I wish the couple the most sincere blessing I have ever uttered—dripping sarcasm and venom to my own ears—and then cheerfully depart. I am storming towards the parking lot, and I know you are shadowing my steps. I stop at my car, not wanting to look at you. Quietly you explain that you had gotten a ride to the meeting from Canada, and that you need one back to the hotel. I unlock my vehicle, motioning nonchalantly to the passenger's side. We both climb inside and I put the car in drive.

I don't want to look at you.

I expected your resolve to shatter.

And you _smiled._

A tearful, eye-sparking smile that infuriates me to the point where merely thinking about it nearly makes me pull over and leave you on the side of the road.

_How could you smile?!_

You see how my hands tighten on the wheel, and you hold your tongue. We arrive at the hotel in record time and I'm already storming towards the elevator. Again you follow me, quieter than the meekest mouse. I leave the door to my room open, showing that you are welcome. I hear it shut behind you. We stand in silence.

You start to laugh, and I look at you in alarm. Of all times, you choose _now_ to laugh? Have you gone _mad?_ You're rubbing at one of your eyes and that's when I realize you're finally crying... Or are you? It's hard to tell, but it's more like you are doing both.

"Engaged," You finally choke out. "He's finally engaged..."

_"Angleterre..."_ My reflex suddenly becomes to comfort you.

"But it's okay..."

What?

_**What?!**_

The question is clearly written on my face, "I told them to do it... I even helped Kiku pick out a ring..." Rivulets of sorrow are streaming down your face, and you chuckle.

I

Don't

Get

It

You cannot be the same man I comforted all these years; you cannot be the one I found solace in so many times. That man would have been utterly crushed at these events; he would have asked me to take him in my arms and vanquish his tears. _"Why?"_ The question rips itself from my throat.

You seem surprised at my hostility, "So I can bloody stop hoping," The mirth is gone from your voice. "Now I can't wake up and think, _'Maybe today he'll finally change his mind,'"_ A sob finally explodes from your chest, _"'Maybe he'll finally come b-back to me...!'"_ Your shoulders shake and your hands are balled at your sides, "N-Now I _have_ to give up on him... Now I _have_ to m-move on..."

Thrice today I am stunned by your actions, something highly unusual for us. Your eyes beseech mine, what are you looking for? Approval? Applause? You expect me to be _happy?_ Wasn't he the reason you came to me? You're making yourself move on, doesn't that make me obsolete? You think I'm _happy_ that you're going to cast me aside? How _dare_ you follow me here and expect praise! My emotions must make themselves very plain, for you wince for a moment, then scowl fiercely. Tears continue to fall, I've hurt you again, it seems.

Again we stand in silence.

"You git..." Your voice is low and dangerous, again catching me off guard. "You daft, blind FROG!" You take a step towards me, "Don't you know _why_ I did this?!"

"You finally realized zat ze boy was never yours to begin with?" I clap unenthusiastically, "Bravo, would you like a prize?"

You practically shake with fury and raise a hand as if to strike me. Quickly you think better and the hand drops back to your side. You shake your head futilely and the color rises in your cheeks. You're angry and flustered and I have to admit I'm pretty annoyed as well. Pain laces through my heartstrings, "So, I assume you won't be whoring yourself out to me anymore?" Can't you see what you do to me? Do you not _care_ if I suffer?

This time you actually do hit me, a closed fist sends me staggering against the bed frame. "You bloody prick..." You wait until I right myself; I notice that your eyes have dried, "I did that for you." Your voice is level, your face is red, but your eyes are glittering with passionate rage, "But apparently it was pointless because I was _obviously_ whoring myself out to you all these years!" Your words drip with sarcasm and fire, "And what does that make you? If I'm the bloody whore then I _cringe_ to think of what you really are!" One last scathing glare and you turn towards the door.

Seven steps and I stop you.

My fingers close around your wrist and I anchor you to the spot, "You're lying," I hiss, "You would never do something like zat for me." Prove me wrong, _please_ prove me wrong. You whip around, freeing yourself from my grip and punching me in the stomach. I fall back a few steps and your stare is murderous.

"Do you _really_ think I'm that coldhearted?!" You shout, "Would I be that cruel?! Do you think I would be so... So _stupid?!"_ Your lip quivers and I see the threatening tears once more. "What happened between us... I realized it meant something to me, and I realized that as long as I kept bitching about America I would never allow myself to be happy." You run a hand through your already messy hair, gripping it out of frustration, "I knew Kiku was in love with him, I knew they were dating... So I encouraged them to take the next step, that way they would enjoy a life together and I would stop dreaming of what could have been." A hand flashes out and grabs my tie, forcing me to look you in the eye, "I did it for you," You forcefully state each word. The color in your cheeks had died down to a light blush, but that quickly changed as your voice dropped to a whisper, cheeks stained a dark pink.

"Did you feel _anything_ when we were alone together? Did any of it even _matter_ to you?" My tie was released, and yet your eyes remained locked on mine. They attained a sharp quality, cutting into me and demanding an answer. Twin emerald knives plunge infinite to the depths of my soul, and for once in my life I am unsure of how to respond. I am silent for a moment, trying to process your words.

"I... Don't understand..." I murmur, "You've resolved your personal agony... You don't wa—_need,"_ I hastily correct myself, "You don't need me anymore... Right?"

You're confused and you open your mouth for a split second, before clamping it shut. A moment passes and you try again, "I asked you first..." You state with a curious expression.

I stare at you for the longest time yet. To say that would imply that our questions are the same... Are they? I ask if you still need me, you ask if... Of course I felt something when I was with you, how could I not? Of course it mattered...

"Yes..." I whisper, "It did..."

Your eyes light up at that, and I see the beginnings of yet another smile. "Good," You reply while folding your arms, "Because _I_ still want _you_ just as much as _you_ still need _me."_ The corners of your mouth turn upward, and I am taken back to a moment from the long forgotten past. Back to a time when we were young and foolish, a time when we were untroubled by politics and the management of empires.

I can't help but mimic your expression as I move to embrace you, words cannot express my happiness.

You're right.

I need you.

"_Je t'aime,"_ I suddenly blurt out. I freeze, did I really just..?

You take a step back and I see you're smiling wider than ever before. You grab onto the front of my suit and kiss me, but it is unlike any of the previous ones we shared. This one is chaste, yet deep, innocent yet sensual and I feel that if I just wrap my arms around you I would be eternally content to stay like this forever. Regrettably we part, "I love you too..." You pause, and then seem to tack on as an afterthought, "Frog."

"Is that _really_ necessary?" I ask, "If you're going to say you love me at least call me Francis..." A hint of a whine enters my voice and you laugh.

"But you're my _frog_; it'd be too weird if I called you by name..." We both move to sit on the edge of my bed, our fingers lace together. Well, I suppose if I am yours than it won't be _too _unbearable.

"Well then I'm calling you Arthur," I shoot back.

"Fine," You reply.

I roll my eyes and fall back on the bed, "Would you like to stay in my room tonight?" Your entire body tenses and you let out a sigh.

"Just because we've finally admitted our feelings doesn't mean we're going to have—"

"I don't mean z_at_," I chuckle, "Just... Stay with me tonight... _S'il vous plait, mon amour?"_

You lean over me and put your wrist to my forehead, "Are you feeling alright?"

I reach up to caress your face, "With you 'ere, I feel _fantastique."_

"But..." You look so confused, it is quite adorable, "You just asked me to stay with you... Not to have sex but to—" I put a finger to your lips, silencing you.

"Stay with me," I finish, "No more leaving when morning comes... I want to be with you, always."

As the country of love I could not have said it much plainer. It is a wonderful thing, to state words that have been waiting centuries to be said, I pray that your heart feels as light as mine at this moment. You lay on top of me and I shift until we are both in a comfortable position.

"Alright then," You mutter, positively beaming.

I wrap my arms around you again, gently crushing you into my chest. I lovingly stroke your hair. This is how it is meant to be between us. All the years wasted by seeking mere physical comfort... How I crave to make it up to you in every way possible. My arms relax and we simply stare at each other.

"'As anyone ever told you 'ow your eyes sparkle when 'appiness graces you?" You flush a delicate shade of red and shake your head no. With a grin I continue, "Zey are akin to a sea of emeralds, or to an enchanted forest if I may be so bold..."


End file.
